Lenning, at the moment, had his back to the opening and was wrapping a long, flat package in his handkerchief.
“What?” he gasped, throwing a startled look over his shoulder at Mingo.
The other repeated his announcement.
“The devil!” gulped Lenning, in a flurry. “He’s found out what happened at the house, and put for here on the jump. Now for merry blazes, and a little slick work by yours truly.”
His hand shook a little as he crowded the handkerchief-wrapped package into the breast of his Norfolk jacket; then, getting up, he hurried out of the tent and ran to meet the tall man with the gray mustache.
“Ah, my boy!” exclaimed Colonel Hawtrey, making no effort to conceal the pleasure the meeting gave him. “You’re looking fit, I must say, so there’s not much use asking how you feel.”
“Fine as silk, uncle,” said Lenning, clasping the colonel’s hand. “How did you find everything at the mines?”
“The mines are all right,” was the answer, “but it was something I discovered after I got home this morning that has rather shaken me. Take me to a place where we can be by ourselves and talk.”
“My tent will fill the bill.” They walked together in the direction of Lenning’s headquarters. “Was that Hawkins I saw leading away the horses?” Lenning asked.
“Yes, that was Hawkins.” That there was a load of some sort on the colonel’s mind was evidenced by his tone and manner. “It’s possible,” he added, “that I am going to need Hawkins in—er—an official capacity.”